


stumbling

by mavencalore



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Rating May Change, Romeo and Juliet References, and also just, no major character death thats not my style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-02 19:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mavencalore/pseuds/mavencalore
Summary: “You told me not to waste my love on somebody who doesn't value it.”But I do, so much, I carved out this space for you in my heart, so long ago and so deep that nothing could ever fill it.  I was made for you, families and feuds be damned,I love you.





	1. two households, both alike in dignity,

**Author's Note:**

> it's a snowbaz romeo and juliet au how original !! im not even sorry, i need a new writing project to start of my summer and im completely in love with this pairing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the legendary rivalry between the Houses of Pitch and Snow, a divided Watford, and two boys, barely men, caught in the middle.

The first time Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch met Simon Oliver Snow, they were each eleven. Baz insisted that he was eleven and three-quarters, a fact he liked to lord over Simon even though the other boy was three inches taller. Their fathers kept a respectable distance, but the tension in the air was evident, palpable like boiling water threatening to overflow.

The Grimm-Pitch family were beautiful but cold, alabaster faces in a castle made of unforgiving glass. In this Baz Pitch was an oddity, his dark skin betraying the heritage he shared with his late mother, Lady Natasha. However golden, the color had been sucked from his cheeks long ago.

The Snow’s were infinitely powerful, warm and kind, seen best in the afternoon sunlight, its rays glinting off of their shining copper hair. Simon Snow was the center of their universe, standing in front of doting crowds with a charming smile and shaking hands that he hid behind his back, along with other scars.

Two young boys, on different sides of a line neither of them understood. But as they grew older, they learned.

“The Snow’s are not to be trusted, Basilton. They are vile and deceitful and they hate everything you are because you are everything they cannot be.”

“Stay away from the Pitch family, dear boy, they are monsters, evil and cunning. Do not be tempted by their beauty. You must stay strong.”

The feud between the families was somewhat of an urban legend, growing beyond the walls of their magnificent castles. Riots broke out in the streets of Watford, friend turning on friend, though neither could tell you why the feud had started in the first place. All they knew was that the other side was the wrong side, and no one was caught dead in the middle. And so the fair town of Watford was split in two, and a _real_ line was built, one of cold, hard stone.

Two young boys grew into two extraordinary young men, the perfect heirs to their perfect kingdoms. Their destinies were written in the stars.

But of course, on the eve of the summer solstice, just before his eighteenth birthday, in a dusty and abandoned ballroom of the Pitch manor, one Simon Snow was met with a gratifying revelation.

And everything went to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about it being kind of slow, i had to set the scene a little but future updates will be much longer.


	2. confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a big announcement at the annual Summer Solstice ball throws Baz for a loop. Simon is his usual oblivious self but there's something here that neither boy wants to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's only been twenty four hours and i've already gotten so much positive encouragement so thank you !! this update is a lot longer, and they'll mostly be around this length from now on. hope you enjoy it !!

As a tradition, each year House Pitch hosted a ball on the eve of the summer solstice, inviting royals and dignitaries from far flung corners for a night of revelry and camaraderie, leaving behind conflict and alliances in a flurry of silk skirts and champagne flutes. The main ballroom of the Pitch manor was decked out in the colors of their family crest, black and deep red, diamonds dripping from chandeliers and mirror-like glass covering the walls.

Baz himself was dressed in a sleek black suit, cutting and perfectly fitted. He leaned casually against a wall near the back of the room, observing his guests in turn. As host, he was obligated to engage many of them, but at this particular moment he protested being paraded like a show pony and so settled for being reprimanded by his father later on. He swept his eyes over Catarina Walsh’s glittering gown and shy smile, sent a look of sympathy at the way of Lady Keris, who was being pulled toward the balconies by a smug Trixie. He looked pointedly away from Penelope Bunce, a close friend of the Snow’s, who was entertaining a particularly rowdy crowd of admirers. But as treacherous eyes are wont to do, his ultimately caught on the back of Simon Snow’s head. The copper of his unruly curls was blinding under the false lights of the chandeliers, especially when he threw his head back to laugh at a joke. How funny it was, Baz certainly didn’t know, but Snow never spared an opportunity to show off his perfectly stupid smile; the strongest weapon in his arsenal.

When Snow turned around Baz had already schooled his expression into a pointed sneer, maintaining his gaze until the other boy scoffed and moved through the crowd once more. In his whole life, one thing had been certain, no matter what the occasion, Basilton Pitch could always count on his ability to unnerve Simon Snow. It was one of the many talents he had, and most definitely his favorite. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the faint sound of a spoon chiming against a glass of champagne, unsurprised to find his stepmother at the end.

“Before I begin, I would like to thank all those in attendance tonight. The Summer Solstice ball has always been an important tradition in the Pitch family, and one I am proud to continue in place of the late and loved Natasha Pitch.” There was a sympathetic pause in the crowd. Baz rolled his eyes, “but I am proud to announce that tonight not only marks the start of another picturesque summer, but also the start of a beautiful union. The future heir of House Wellbelove, our very own Lady Agatha, has chosen a suitor. I offer my congratulations to her...and to Prince Simon Snow.” Baz straightened, feeling suddenly awake. Of course, who doubted it, she was the perfect princess to Simon’s prince. Shining blonde hair, porcelain skin, delicate features. A Wellbelove could not helped but be loved, it was in their name after all, they were famous for being the only family to hold an alliance with both sides of divided Watford. If Baz had any interest in women he would say she was lovely. From the corner of his eye he found a bashful Snow holding her hand while people milled around to catch a glimpse of the golden couple. His father stood close behind, beaming. Baz was sick. He very nearly fled the ballroom, searching the pockets of his suit for cigarettes.

Simon found him sometime later, seeking solace from the stifling air of the ballroom but afraid to step out onto Trixie and Keris on the balcony. He wandered around the manor before finding an abandoned ballroom, heavy doors pulled nearly shut. He shouldered his way in, letting out a breath.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Baz’s voice rang out roughly, startling him.

“Nothing, I just—are you smoking? You know that’ll kill you right?” He stopped short at the sight of smoke curling around Baz’s mouth, illuminated by the moonlight streaming from the window beside him.

“What’s it to you? I’m just making your job easier aren’t I?”

“Jesus, you’re so fucking dramatic.” Simon said in frustration, because that was the only way the two of them could have a conversation.

“Always quick with the temper, Snow, I wonder how you managed to lure Wellbelove into marrying you.” Baz dangled the cigarette from his fingers, smirking at the boy, baiting him.

“I didn’t lure her into anything, Pitch. You bloody well know that, you’re just jealous because I got to her first.”

“She’s not a prize you asshole, and I was never competing. If I were you wouldn’t have stood a chance,” He turned his attention out the window, but not before catching the red blush on Simon’s cheeks.

“Quit gaping like a fish, are you staying or not?” Baz asked. Simon took a seat in front of him wordlessly. The two of them were on some sort of fragile truce. Internally of course, if either of their fathers caught wind of it it would be the end of their lives as they knew them, but seven years of fighting had worn down both of them. The terms were unclear, but any instance a Snow and a Pitch weren’t at each other’s throats was a miracle in itself.

“Do you have another?” Simon asked into the awkwardly stretching silence.

“You know it’ll kill you right?” Baz mocked his earlier concern.

“Shut up,” he leaned forward into Baz’s space, delicately pulling his half-finished cigarette from his grip and taking a long, slow drag. Baz watched him carefully, momentarily stunned at Simon’s forwardness and how close the two of them suddenly were. When Simon breathed out, he did it torturously slow, deliberately blowing the smoke toward Baz’s face, some of it between his slightly parted lips. His eyes closed when the acrid taste invaded his mouth, and Snow’s breath near the shell of his ear was just too much.

“You’re not the only one playing this game, Pitch. I want to see you again. Tomorrow afternoon, on your side of the wall.” his voice was low, whispering despite the fact that no one was around to hear them.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be there,” Baz hated how breathy his voice sounded. He kept his eyes closed until he heard Snow get up, slipping through the door the way he came. He leaned back against the chair with a hand at his forehead.

_Jesus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i say this was going to be a slow burn ? well i am now...get ready.


	3. inauspicious stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon crosses several lines, literally and figuratively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes i haven't updated in over a week but my finals are over which means i can write more often which means regular updates ! here's a pure, ultra fluff chapter as an apology. enjoy, but don't get used to it ;)

Sneaking out of the castle somehow wasn’t a chore for Simon, strange considering it was his birthday.  His father had given him little more than a curt nod at breakfast and later, a knowing look as they both passed the throne room.  Maybe it was because the only person he would have wanted to spend his birthday with was away, presumably with the Wellbeloves making wedding plans.  He thought of his mother briefly before making his way out to the gardens and towards the town, stopped several times by well-wishers; townspeople out and about in the early afternoon.  Simon shouldered on the cloak draped over his arm, seemingly heavier in the sweltering heat of the summer.  It was a bit much, but it would keep him from being recognized once he was on the other side of the wall.  

 

The wall itself was more of a symbol than any sort of real barrier between the two sides of Watford, but the last time anyone had publicly crossed it had been over 15 years ago.  Natasha Pitch was shot within hours of crossing into the Snows’ side of Watford, and any hope of reconciliation between the two houses had died with her.  So to say that Simon felt apprehensive about this meeting was an understatement, but it was his idea, so he would be damned if he didn’t follow through.  The absurdity of it still hadn’t eluded him; a secret rendezvous with the future Heir of Pitch in a part of Watford no Snow had set foot in barring mandatory royal business.  

 

Somehow, seeing Baz leaning casually against a tree as he crossed over eased his mind.  There was no rush of wind, no magic spell broken, no army of attackers waiting for his arrival, just a stupidly tall boy with an even more stupid widow’s peak.  Simon smiled softly.  What this was, he didn’t know, but he was determined it work.  

 

The two walked in silence to the main square of the town, caught up in the people milling about and the stalls in the street selling their fares.  Simon drew his hood down further, feeling conscious.  

 

“You look ridiculous in that thing, by the way,” Baz smirked.  

 

“We’ll see who’s ridiculous when I get mugged.  I can never be too careful,” Simon shot back, pouting slightly because it was the first thing Baz had said to him so far and of course it was an insult.  

 

“We’re not all criminals here Snow, I know your crazy father might think differently, but—” 

“He’s not crazy, and whatever happened to not talking about our families when we do things like this?” Simon interrupted.  

 

“Sorry, you’re right, now come on, there’s this place I really want to show you,” Baz grabbed at his wrist, tugging him forward so he had to jog to keep up.  Simon marveled at the strange feeling of Baz’s cold fingers and the fact that he had managed to pull an apology out of the other boy.  They stopped in front of a bakery, nestled into a corner between a flower shop and a nondescript office.  Simon sucked in a breath, as if trying to taste the smell coming through the door on his tongue.  

 

“Stay out here, I just have to get something,” Baz said, halfway through the door before he let go of Simon’s hand, whose eyes had slipped shut in contentment.

 

When Baz returned a couple minutes later, he was holding a small wicker basket with a cloth draped over it.  Simon tried to look over his shoulder into it, but Baz moved the basket further away, laughing.  

 

“Hey what the hell?  What are you planning now Pitch?”

 

“I’m not  _ planning _ anything, you don’t have an ounce of patience in you, as expected.”

 

“Come off it, just tell me what’s in the basket!”

 

“I just walked out of a bakery, Snow, what could it possible be?  I promise you’ll find out before we leave, but right now, you’re in my Watford, and I want to show you what you’re missing,” Baz reached for him again, this time falling into step with Simon as they wandered. 

 

For once, Baz opened up to him, and Simon was content to listen to his voice as they walked the town, pointing out people he knew, stopping at several stalls in the market, and memorably, being yelled at by a tired mother whose daughter had apparently been hiding behind the two of them in the hopes of escaping her.  Baz had apologized sheepishly to the older woman, straightening the young girl’s paper crown and sinking into a bow, to her great delight.  Truthfully, Simon hadn’t really known what to expect.  From the stories he had heard, certainly something more pillaged and drab, but the sun shined just as brightly on Baz, flowers blooming in every crevice and teeming with life.  They stopped for coffee and Baz watched as the setting sun poured over the hills, bathing Simon in a mesmerizing glow, painting his face with shades of gold.  

 

“I was going to just leave you with these,” Baz gestured at the basket in his arms, “but I changed my mind, I want to look at something first.”

 

“What, the stars?  I’ve been stargazing before, Baz,” Simon sighed wistfully at the basket.  

 

“Not like this, we have to go farther out first,” Baz led them to an open clearing a short ways away, but still removed from the town itself.  They were completely alone here.  

 

When Simon looked up again, the sky was completely different, swirling with dark blues and purples and streaks of shining silver stars.  Without the clouds that usually hung over them he felt as if he had travelled to the galaxy itself.  Simon pulled off his long cloak and laid on the grass before sinking down on it, pulling Baz with him.  

 

“Here, I don’t know how warm they’ll be but they’re still worth it,” Baz unfolded the cloth from the basket, revealing half a dozen sour cherry scones.  Simon yelled in delight, grabbing two at a time and eating without abandon.  There was something about the childish gleam in his eyes that made Baz’s heart skip a beat.  He grabbed one of his own when Simon reached for a third.  

 

“My mom and I make these together all the time, but these are incredible! How did you—”

 

“You’re not exactly subtle, Snow, I see you drooling over them at every dinner party we’ve ever been to, I told you they were amazing,” Baz said smugly.  They settled into a comfortable silence, and when a cold breeze swept through, Simon moved closer, nestling into Baz’s shoulder as an arm came around to rest on his waist.  

 

“My mother used to bring me here a lot.  Told me stories about all the constellations, said it helped clear her head.  The night before she died we were here.  I remember asking her if she was scared, and she said that even if she was, it didn’t matter, because she had me to protect her.  I was supposed to go with her you know, that day, but my father told her to go alone at the last minute.  Every single day I keep thinking maybe if I had been there I could have protected her.  I could have done something.  But it’s too late,” Baz took a shaky breath, and for a split second Simon could see the vulnerability in his eyes, how the heartbreak colored them to something darker.  He took both of Baz’s hands in his.  

 

“I could never pretend to know how you feel, and I know, I know there’s no way to apologize for what happened to her, but you’re healing, I can feel it.  If you weren’t you wouldn’t have brought me here.  She would be so proud of you, if she were still here.  I know that too.  Look at me, Basil,” Simon moved closer still, and the world narrowed to the inches of space between them as he hooked his fingers under Baz’s jaw, tilted his face towards him and pushing their foreheads together.  That strange feeling in his gut was back, but Simon knew what to call it now.    _ Love _ .  He smiled softly as Baz’s eyes fluttered closed, and Simon wanted to count his endlessly tangled dark lashes.  Suddenly everything was so much simpler.  

 

“Happy birthday Simon,” Baz whispered between them, and Simon could taste the cherries in his breath, along with something stronger, something that was purely Baz.  The galaxy above them was infinite, and for a moment, the two boys felt like maybe they were too.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our boys falling in love wasn't the slow burn i was talking about...romeo and juliet fell in love at first sight...


	4. such sweet sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fire is getting closer, but something is already rising from the ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im supposed to be watching the new shadowhunters ep but im writing y'all a chapter instead so you're welcome, have a lowkey gay agatha chapter that i kinda enjoyed writing (this is where the angst tag starts to apply please don't hate me i promise it'll get better...eventually...maybe)

It hadn’t been easy for Agatha to get the wedding out of her mind, caught up in the constant whirl of silk and lace and flowers.  Lady Salisbury had been invited to put together color schemes and music arrangements over endless cups of tea, and Agatha was beginning to feel her mother’s stress too well.  When Agatha had tripped over a fifth train at a fitting, Lady Wellbelove had had a fit, seamstresses narrowly escaping her wrath as Agatha herself hid behind her glove.  She had fled the dressing room with half-hearted apologies, praying to every god that she wouldn’t be bothered until the next morning.  A few hours to herself would be the only thing that would keep her sane.  

 

Wellbeloves were known for their delicate beauty, their gentle features and endless patience.  And everyone in the universe thought Agatha would be the perfect temperance to Simon’s wild, sparkling spirit.  Everyone but her.  Because she was sun-kissed where Simon was sun-drenched, she felt washed out among the bright flowers in the garden where he flourished, because she would rather spend one last hour with her legs draped over Catarina’s on the plush couch in her room than a lifetime as a Snow, powerful as they might be.  

 

Their meeting had been unusual considering the circumstances most royals made acquaintance; at some dinner or ball.  The first time they had met Catarina had showered Agatha in soft rose petals, inadvertently of course, as she later learned they were a last minute gift for her mother.  Flowers abandoned, the two of them got to know each other, and Agatha couldn’t remember the last time she had felt that carefree and honest with herself.  She left with an apology bouquet of her own and a promise to meet again.  She kept the flowers in a crystal vase until every last leaf had died, and pressed the last one between the pages of an empty journal.  

 

Somewhere along the way their meetings had taken a more intimate turn, casual touches and lingering glances and soft smiles.  The first time Agatha had kissed Catarina on the cheek, she was left staring at the shimmering imprint of her own lips, and a revelation.  

 

Her parents had been in talks with the Snows about a marriage for some time, but thinking about doing those same things with Simon, with any boy, left bile rising in the column of her throat.   _ “I’m allowed to feel this way,” _ she thought defiantly.  Catarina had pulled Agatha into her lap that night, whispering into her hair about last times and destinies and love.  

 

She wore black for a week and people asked what she was mourning.  

 

If her relationship with Catarina had been a ticking bomb, the announcement at the Pitch manor was the match, and Agatha watched the blaze in Catarina’s eyes carefully, barely registering Simon’s arm around her.  

 

To see the girl in her bedroom not a week later, cross-legged on their couch like nothing had ever changed between them, made Agatha’s stomach bottom out.  

 

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me ever again,” she started, eyes trained on the floor as she makes her way over to the couch.  

 

“Well I could never stay away for long, Aggie, you know that,” Catarina whispered, not meeting her eyes either.  There was a long silence that neither wanted to fill.  

 

“Remember that plan we made ages ago after drinking all your mom’s whiskey? We were going to run away,” Catarina said softly after some time.  

 

“To your aunt’s cottage in the hills, yeah of course,” Agatha let a smile cross her face.  

 

“I collapsed on your floor and you started laughing, it was completely embarrassing,” Catarina pouted, finally looking up.  

 

“I thought it was cute!”

 

“Shut up,” another silence, this one heavier, “do you really want this?  A masquerade of a marriage to some guy you barely know?” 

 

“I grew up with him, he’s not a stranger.  And it doesn’t matter that I don’t want it, as always everyone else in my life decided that I should want it.”

 

“Exactly!  You’ve given your whole life to them, and you’ll do the same for Snow when you get married off, it’s not fair!”

 

“A lot of shit isn’t fair, Cat, my family needs this, I can’t just pack up and leave for a stupid fantasy,” Agatha swore uncharacteristically in anger.  

 

“So I’m just a stupid fantasy then.”

 

“That’s not what I meant, love,” Agatha took her hands softly from her lap, “I would give anything for it to be you at that altar, but we can’t, the fantasy has to go before both of us get hurt.”

 

“I’m already hurt, Aggie, do you have any idea what it was like seeing you that night at the ball?  If it wasn’t your future on the line I would have marched up and snatched you away myself.”

 

“Cat,” Agatha paused, “I love you, I’ll only ever love you, and we’re not separated for good, this thing between me and Simon, it’s a business arrangement, nothing more.  If we can’t have our fantasy, we can negotiate with reality.  They can’t ban us from seeing each other, right?”

 

“He doesn’t seem to think so,” Catarina mumbled under her breath.   

 

“What?”

 

“Simon doesn’t think so.  He thinks this whole thing is real.  I’ve seen it in his eyes, Aggie, you can’t let him down like that, his feelings are real, even if yours aren’t.  If we’re going to do this right we have to end this right now.”

 

“Wait, I don’t—”

 

Catarina stood up, slipping away from Agatha’s grip, “Whatever we had, whatever this was, it doesn’t matter.  It’s over.  You’re getting married to Simon, and I won’t let you make a mockery of it.  I’m going back to my mother’s in a week, and I won’t be attending the wedding.”

 

“Cat, please, we can figure something out, I’ll talk to Simon, you can’t just leave me!” Agatha could feel tears pooling in her eyes.  Catarina stopped and stepped closer, brushing them away.  This close she could catch the subtle scent of her lily perfume.  Catarina leaned in closer and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Agatha’s lips.  

 

“A parting gift, to remember me by,” she whispered, “Goodbye Aggie.”  

 

The door closed and Agatha slid to the floor, tears falling freely.  She had to fix this.  Fuck the families, fuck Simon.  This wasn’t her happy ending, and if this was her destiny, fuck that too.  She slid out paper and an envelope, addressing it to Simon in neat, sloping cursive.  She had been honest with herself for long enough, it was time for her to be honest with the rest of the world too.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so y'all should know two things: 1) agatha is not tybalt or paris, romeo and juliet was an inspiration not a parallel and 2) if you're looking for agatha-bashing you're not gonna find that here, please let's give my girl some more respect thanks


	5. violent ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> these violent delights have their violent ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being so late with this update !! i've been prepping for my internship and things have been crazy around the house but i'm back with more ;) if you want to take a break from the angst i posted a snowbaz flowershop au too ! (it was supposed to be a quick exercise to break my writer's block but it's like 3k words of gay fluff go read it thanks)

The sweet scent of blossoms drifted through Simon’s open window with a gentle breeze, ruffling the silk of his pajama bottoms. He buried his head in his pillow with a slow yawn.

“You’re tired,” Baz said softly, turning on his side and laying an arm dangerously close to Simon’s waist.

“Mmm, you’re not helping,” Simon’s voice was muffled by his pillow. The two had been laying like this for some time, trading whispered words in the moonlight. The one advantage to having a room almost entirely separate from the rest of the castle was that it was easier for Baz to sneak in after hours. Even if they had only done it a few times, Simon was beginning to think maybe the long walk to breakfast each morning was worth it.

“I should get going.”

“Just stay a while, I don’t mind.”

“You said that two hours ago, Snow, this is bordering on scandalous,” Baz smirked.  

“This whole thing is scandalous, or did you forget?”

“How could I ever,” Baz’s tone was laced with bitterness as he pulled back the covers to leave.

“Wait Baz,” Simon was close enough that Baz could feel his breath. The two of them had been toeing this line for a while, since Simon’s birthday, and every single time Baz felt like he was being lit on fire. Being this close to each other would prove disastrous for both of them, but Baz couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Simon, we can’t. You know that,” Baz sighed.

“Stop calling me that then,” Simon whispered.

“Calling you what?”

“You called me Simon again, I can’t _think_ when you do that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Snow,” Baz pulled back, embarrassed to meet the hurt look so clear in Simon’s eyes.

“You’re the one being ridiculous Baz! Was this part of your grand fucking plan too?” Simon sat up, his voice raised.

“Keep your voice down! Are you daft? I don’t have _any_ plan, and besides, it’s not my fault you’re so-so _deprived_ that you fall in love with the first thing that gives you any semblance of attention,” Baz’s words were razor edged, much more reminiscent of the Pitch cruelty Simon had always been warned about. Whoever this boy was sitting in front of him, it wasn’t the same one who had held his hand under the stars weeks ago.

“You think I’m in love with you?” Simon hissed, “you won’t even give me a chance! I can’t believe I thought this would work, maybe I am an idiot for thinking you were different from everything I’d ever heard about your kind. My father was right about you, you’re nothing but a monster. Whatever the hell this was I think we’re done.”

Baz paused. Suddenly the shimmering softness of the past few weeks disappeared. His vision cleared with Simon’s words, leaving it clear and cruel, “This. This is exactly why I didn’t want things to go any further. Because deep down, you will always be a Snow. You don’t give a damn about anything except your family legacy, your father made sure of that. Why should I be any different then?”

“Get out. Now. Before I call the guards,” Simon tugged harshly on Baz’s collar, blue eyes aflame, “I want to see you bleed, Pitch. And the next time you step foot here, I’ll make damn sure of it.”

Baz jerked away from his grip, the angry set of Simon’s shoulders the only thing he could see as he began to climb out of the window, “Snow,” he said with finality, “next time, don’t waste your love on somebody who doesn’t value it,” he walked silently through the inky darkness. They were doomed, Baz had known from the start. He could love Simon quietly, from afar. He had done it for years, it wasn’t a new feeling. This way was better for both of them. He was sure of it.

 

 

A week later, the Pitch family received an invitation, a heavy cream colored paper embossed with gold and stamped in red with two seals, the family crests of Snow and Wellbelove. Simon was getting married. Baz tore the invitation in two and locked the door to his room, sinking into the carpet, his eyes heavy with tears he refused to let fall. There was a knock on the door, his stepmother had stepped inside herself before he could get up.

“There was something else with that invitation. It’s addressed to you personally.”

“Throw it out,” Baz said, eyeing the scrawl on the front of the envelope with disdain.

Daphne left the room silently, setting the envelope gently on his bedside table. Baz walked over to it, turning the plain paper over in his hands. With a start, he tore it open.

“Baz,” it read, “If you’re reading this, you’ve seen the wedding invitation. I’ve decided to marry Agatha. For the sake of your alliances I hope you will attend. I’m not the best with words, as you so constantly reminded me, but be sure that no one will ever hear from me about the time we spent together. You told me not to waste my love on somebody who didn’t value it, so here I am, giving it to someone who does.”

The words rang in Baz’s head, he could almost hear Simon saying them. He had taken Baz’s parting words as a challenge, returning in an instant to his former life as a shining, golden boy. “But I do, so much, I carved out this space for you in my heart, so long ago and so deep that nothing could ever fill it. I was made for you, families and feuds be damned, _I love you_ ,” he thought. But this was Simon’s love, a love like smoke, suffocating and intoxicating and fleeting. Baz tucked the paper back into its envelope and slid it gently under his bed. If this was Snow’s choice, so be it. He was a Pitch, and there was no room for weakness. That’s all Snow was, a weakness, and Baz had been stupid enough to mistake it for love.  

Of course he would attend their wedding.  He would watch Simon fulfill his golden destiny with Wellbelove while he burned.  It was downright masochistic, but he was disturbed, ask anyone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...nothing lasts forever...except simon and baz (they won't be sad for long but y'all may need some patience)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ! comments/kudos are lovely as always :)
> 
> say hi to me on twitter @macchiatomyg ily


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